


Sink and Sway

by Boog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Prose Poem, Schmoop, kinda I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boog/pseuds/Boog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel falls from grace, he doesn't land on the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sink and Sway

**Author's Note:**

> A quick drabble unrelated to anything. I was just bored and feeling a little inspired. Enjoy!

They clipped my wings to simply keep me from bumping my head on the ceiling of stars. I am not a creature to be pitied as I make my first unsure steps with thin legs not accustomed to my own weight. Do not look upon me with eyes of concern and sympathy. I do not need to feel wind through my feathers, to drink low-lying clouds. I only need you to catch me as I fall from the nest this final time.

It is true that flying much resembles falling.

 This time I will land in the comfort of humanity. It is freshly washed sheets still warmed from Laundromat dryers. It is oversized sweaters from second hand stores that still smell of the previous owner’s aftershave. It is murmured words of compassion in the dark when nightmares claw their way in. It’s your lips kissing the salt water from my cheeks.

I’ve found that humanity is both more and less than sitting on the hood of a sun-warmed car, eating sandwiches made of crusty heels while lazily swatting away summer mosquitos. It is with you I am able to find the joy in bitter winter nights, the sorrow in the endless mid-afternoon of summer days. I am able to enjoy the simple things with my feet planted to the ground not as a spectator to these worldly events, but as a participant. I’ve enjoyed allowing my roots to sink deep.

Sometimes though, I feel my wings as a heavy phantom weight.

I yearn to stretch them, shake the aches out. Those are the times I find myself longing to feel your strong hands holding me lightly, as if my fall has ran cracks through me and you fear I might break. You seem to sense my restlessness as those are the nights you make me feel like I’m still capable of flight.

Words of praise, of faith tumble from your mouth laced with expletives meant only for my ears. They are a fallen angel’s hymns. It is the holiest of verses. You alone can drive me to this point beyond capacity and push me off, letting me sink into warm lightness.

It is afterwards in shared, quiet moments that I feel truly divine.

Though my wings have been rent from my back and my ears made deaf to my siblings’ songs, I find the sensation of sinking into your arms as you whisper your own odes to be a sufficient alternative to flying.


End file.
